The Affection Evocation
by mindtricks91
Summary: While taking care of a drunk Amy, Sheldon found out things that he never quite imagine would discover before.


**A story that got into my head at 12 am. Supposed to be a one-shot, but since I cannot yet figure out the ending, it might turn into a few chapters. **

**I don't own The Big Bang Theory. In my dream, yes. Reality? Not so much. All rights reserved to WB and CBS.**

* * *

He wasn't expecting this.

He was worried. _Extremely _worried. But by the time he got to her apartment, the only thing he found was a very, _very_ drunk neurobiologist.

He wasn't expecting that at all.

The last time he couldn't make any kind of communication with her was when her friends left her out of Bernadette's bridesmaids dresses hunting two years ago. Which baffled him, because it really sounded stupid in his head. Sad of being left out from dress shopping. She should've been sad because she was prevented from making a significant tribute to science prior to dress shopping, not from spending money for an unworthy, "worn one time only" dress. But she didn't.

_Estrogen._ It all comes out to it.

She was vomiting. He had to help holding her hair back, and also (while scrunching his nose from the smell) rubbing her back. 'Alcohol is never the solution, Amy,' he scolded her. 'How many times do I have to tell you this?'

_Bleeeegghh._ The only answer he got.

After thoroughly (approximately 10 minutes) pumping of the contents of her stomach out, she finally let her head out of the toilet bowl. Sheldon helped her cleaned herself, washed her face and her hands; he even volunteered himself to the task of keeping her oral cavity fresh and clean. _So much of being a good boyfriend_, he thought, _she should be thankful that she got me_.

He had no idea how big his head was.

Then the lanky physicist made her tea. Ginger, to help her feeling less nauseous. She was sitting on her spot at the couch, starring at figures moving in tranquil on the screen. Was it Star Wars? She squinted. No, Sheldon had put on some kind of show that involved pointy-eared alien.

Star Trek?

She was still trying to figure it out when Sheldon came and settled himself beside her. 'Here,' he held out a steaming mug. 'Drink this. No, no, no – don't touch the mug, just drink.. Here,' he held it out to her mouth, 'you're not steady yet. You'll spill the tea. Just drink – careful, it's hot.'

Warm. The inside of her digestion tract felt warm. And comfortable. 'Drink a bit more,' her favourite train-maniac told her. So she did.

Warm. _So_ comfortable.

'This is really not the kind of behaviour I'm expecting from you, Amy,' he nagged, while placing the mug on the coffee table. 'You know alcohol prevents you from thinking clearly, something that a brilliant scientist like you should've known. Oh well,' he sighed, 'I'll talk to Penny. She's the source of all this madness.'

_Thud_. Her head fell onto his shoulder. 'Nooooo,' she slurred. 'Not Penny... She's my bestie...'

'Amy, if it weren't because of her, you wouldn't fall into the trap of alcohol,' he frowned at her. 'Even Feynman stopped once he realised that his alcoholism could damage his brain.'

'Why won't you kiss me?'

It came out of nowhere. Sheldon glared at her. Where the heck did it come from?

'What are you talking about?'

'Even Spock let Uhura kissed him,' she pointed weakly at the screen. 'See? They're kissing.'

'Alright little lady, that's enough. You're obviously in no good state to...'

'My sister came today,' she said in a low, hoarse voice. 'The project at Caltech now at halt, she told me she's getting married,' she made a strange laugh. 'My boss was mad, threatened to sack me. Maybe sacked already,' her head fell to his lap. 'You smell nice.'

'What...'

'I want to call. But it's Halo night,' she murmured. 'Your thin, beckoning lips... I'm nearing forty.'

'Amy_.._'

'Twenty five percent of 40-year-old women can conceive naturally,' she drew calculations with her hand in mid air, 'chance of carrying a child with Down syndrome is one in 100..'

'_Amy_, please..'

'I want kids. A boy for you, a girl for me..'

'_Please_..'

'_Picture me, upon your knee.._' she started to sing. For a while the apartment was filled with nothing but her shaky voice, singing a wistful tune. '_Oh, can't you see, how happy we will be.._'

It ended with a start of a series of sobs. Which turned into a lament. His pants was getting wet.

And for the first time in his life, he didn't care.

He stroke her hair, her arms. He lowered his head and whispered comforting words into her ears. _I know, I'm getting there. Ssshh, it'll be okay. _

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

Relentlessly, he kept on. Until sleep took her over.

* * *

**Song reference : Tea for Two by Irving Caesar and Vincent Youmans. Doris Day's version is recommended.**

**That's that for now. Will write a new chapter once I get the will and inspiration to do so. Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated. :)**

**Long live Shamy!**


End file.
